


pull you up from the ash and the earth

by ChancellorGriffin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Mount Weather, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 23:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10320278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancellorGriffin/pseuds/ChancellorGriffin
Summary: Post-216.  Harper's tired of everyone tiptoeing around her just because of what happened in Mount Weather.  Raven's the only person who doesn't treat her like she's made of glass.





	

**Author's Note:**

> cold wind blows  
> through your bones  
> through your bones  
> yet the river keeps the future  
> like a secret  
> when she floods
> 
> pull you up  
> from the ash  
> and the earth  
> to a child that might remember  
> still alive and in her blood
> 
> \--"throuh your bones," lost lander

They all tiptoe around Harper like she’s made of glass, and it _sucks._

Monty’s kind, he’s so kind, but he still can’t quite look her in the eye yet, look anyone in the eye really.  He’s still haunted.  And besides, there’s no room in his heart right now for anything that isn’t desperately trying to keep Jasper from sinking down into a darkness so entire that it swallows him up whole.  Miller helps some, he’s steady and he means well and at least, you know, he was _there_ , but he didn’t get the drill so it isn’t the same.

His body wasn’t violated, not like hers was, so it isn’t the same.

She kind of wishes she knew Lincoln better.  He’d get it, if anybody would.  She catches him watching her every once in awhile when she moves through the halls, wincing, on her way home from physical therapy, and they share a look that’s full of shadows and horror and pure cold hate for Cage Wallace and Lorelai Tsing.  But he’s got his own shit to carry, he’s still working toxins out of his system and he’s an outlaw, basically, so Harper can’t just walk up to him and lay it all out there.

She can’t tell Lincoln about her nightmares when he’s still pushing out of the one he’s stuck in himself.

There are only two other people who were on that table, who actually understand.

Abby would listen.  Abby gets it.  But Abby’s the chancellor, the doctor, Clarke’s mom, she’s holding everything together by a thread, and she’s clearly only getting through the day by pretending that she’s fine, and Harper doesn’t think she could face being the person who reminds Abby that she isn’t.

Which leaves Raven.

Which isn’t going so well.

Because Raven’s not scared like Harper is, Raven’s _pissed_ , Raven’s _furious_ , Raven’s whole body is rebelling against her and she just wants to burn everything to the ground.  If she could go back in time she’d shove Clarke out of the way and pull that lever her own damn self because _how fucking dare they_.  Raven’s _terrifying_ and she’s keeping everyone at arm’s length, you can barely talk to her, nobody goes near except Sinclair and that’s just for work, to keep her busy.

Harper tries, every once in awhile, asks Raven gently if she’s okay, hoping maybe she’ll say “of course I’m not okay, you’re not okay either,” hoping in this endless sea of not-okay people trying to wake up every morning and get through the day that at least one person will just see her.  They’re all watching, but they’re not _seeing_ , and it makes her want to smash something.  Taking heavy things out of her hands, “let me carry that for you, you’re still recovering,” but not sitting down next to her at the fire and saying “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Too obvious and too invisible at the same time.

Not to mention that she can tell when they look at her they’re seeing Fox too, they’re seeing the other one who didn’t make it, who wasn’t as lucky, and hand to God if one more person tries to tell Harper she’s _lucky_ –

But anyway.

It sucks.

Abby’s working her and Raven through physical therapy, as gently as she can but it’s hell on all three of them, and the only thing Harper hates more than the stabbing, shrieking pain is that she’s the only one of them who always cries.  Raven never does.  Abby never does.  Just her, just the one who’s still a kid, just the blonde one, the soft one, the one nobody trusted to hold her own on the team until she proved herself, the one everyone’s tiptoeing around because they don’t want her to shatter.  And _hey, fuck all of you_ , she wants to scream, _because those motherfuckers drilled into my goddamn bone marrow and I’m still here, I survived, and I didn’t let it break me._

And it hasn’t.  It hasn’t broken her.  Because Harper would _never_ have pulled that lever.  Harper knows so many of those people were good.  For the first week she can’t take a step without her back, her thighs, her calf muscles shrieking in pain so hot and red and terrible that she nearly doubles over; but she’s still strong enough to hold onto herself.

She’s grateful for that.  But she’d like to be as tough as Raven. 

At the very least, it might make getting through another day of physical therapy a little easier.

* * *

It’s almost by accident that she figures it out.

There’s a storage room nobody uses, way at the end of the dormitory hall, where Abby stashed some surplus medical supplies (basic first aid, bandages and heat packs and things) in a crate for emergencies.  There’s one such crate on every floor, just in case.  (Clean white sterilized bandages, a luxury.  Harper can tell there’s a part of Abby that isn’t sorry Mount Weather’s gone.) She limps her way down the hall to retrieve a gauze pack; she stumbled a little in the mess hall, not much but it twisted her ankle at a weird angle and tore open the fragile healing skin of her thigh.  Not worth bothering Abby or Jackson about, just a fresh bandage and a few minutes alone to sit in the corner of the storage room and let herself cry before she goes back outside again.

She opens the storage room door and stops short, staring.  _“Raven?”_

“Go away,” Raven mumbles bitterly, but Harper doesn’t.  The other girl is curled up on a heap of surplus bedding in the corner and her shoulders are shaking, she’s _sobbing_ , and Harper’s sure she wants to be left alone but she just can’t stand the thought of closing the door on someone when they’re this unhappy, so instead she just goes about her business and lets Raven get used to her.  She rummages through the supply crate, finds the gauze, and tugs off the heavy canvas pants of her guard uniform to examine the wound.  The cool air is nice against her skin, so she sheds the jacket too, and stiffly lowers herself down next to Raven on the pile of bedding. 

She doesn’t say anything.  Raven clearly doesn’t want to talk.  She just peels off the old bandage, dabs at the open wound (wincing at the icy burn of anesthetic) and lets it breathe.

“Here,” says Raven, sniffling a little, sitting up.  She’s clearly doing the “pretend I wasn’t crying” thing, and Harper lets her.  She doesn’t care.  “Let me.”

“I got it.”

“Easier to let someone else do it, at this angle.  Here.  Give me.”  She takes the gauze and medical tape from Harper.

She’s quick and deft, good with her hands, and it’s over fast, but still the pressure of her fingers on tender flesh makes Harper wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m okay.”

“Course you are,” says Raven matter-of-factly like there wasn’t any doubt.  “You’re Harper.”

“What’s that mean?” Harper asks suspiciously, not sure whether she’s been complimented or insulted. 

Raven stares at her.  “You kidding?  You’re the toughest person in this whole damn camp.  What they did to you, it killed Fox.  But you survived it.  You’re surviving every day.”  Raven shakes her head in admiration.  “I see you when we’re in physical therapy together, I see how damn tough you are, how you never quit, and I don’t think even you know how brave you are.”

“Some bravery,” Harper mumbles.  “I cry every damn time.”

“Me too.  I just wait until it’s done and come up here and do it with the door closed.”  Harper turns and looks at her, puzzled.  “Abby’s all the family I have left,” Raven explains.  “She worries about me too much.  I can’t show her this.  I can’t cry in front of her, or she’ll know I’m not okay.  But it’s not like there’s anyone else here but us who really gets it.”

“Yeah,” says Harper softly.  “Yeah.  I know.”

“It’s turning me into an asshole,” says Raven bluntly.  “I get it.  I know that.  I hurt all the time, everything hurts, I can’t do my job, it makes me pissy, I snap at people.  I’m such a dick sometimes.  I know that.  I’m really trying.  But I don’t mean it.  Or anyway, not with you.”  She leans her head back against the cold metal wall.  “I’m no damn good at talking about feelings,” she sighs, “but maybe it would go easier if me and you stick together.”

“You don’t need me,” says Harper.  “You’ve got Wick.”

Raven snorts a little bitterly.  “That’s over.”

“What?  When?”

“When he couldn’t stop treating me like a fucking china doll.  God, don’t you get _sick_ of it?  Everyone treating you like you’re about to fall apart?  We’ve _all_ been through shit, we’re all doing our best, don’t fucking single me out like I need special treatment, like you think that makes me feel better instead of worse.”

Harper's whole body collapses in relief to hear _somebody else finally say it._ She leans her head on Raven’s shoulder, startling them both, but it feels like the only right thing.  “I thought I was the only one,” she says, and Raven’s arm goes around her.

“You and me,” says Raven.  “You and me.”

They sit there together for a long time, and several minutes of companionable silence go by before Harper realizes Raven’s hand is still resting warm on her thigh. She’d braced it there to adhere the bandage, and hasn’t moved it.

It feels good to be touched by someone who isn’t either torturing her or treating her.  It feels good to be touched when she’s not lying on an exam table or choking back tears as Jackson prods her thigh muscles to test the nerve response.  It feels good just to be _touched._

She shifts a little, moving closer.

Raven’s fingers twitch, just a little, soft on Harper’s skin, but she doesn’t pull it away.

"Thanks for -" Harper begins, but trails off, not quite sure where that sentence goes from here.  _Thanks for not treating me like I'm about to shatter into a million pieces?  Thanks for always being the one who saves our asses when nobody else can?  Thanks for seeing me?  Thanks for keeping your hand right there and giving me something that feels nice for the first goddamn time since we landed?_

She's still trying to think it out when Raven's mouth lands on hers, and that's the end of the talking. 

Raven picked a nice comfortable spot for curling up and crying, but it also comes in pretty handy for making out.  Harper's on her back before she knows it, Raven's hard strong body on top of hers, limbs tangled together, and Harper lets Raven take the lead, because Raven needs it, they both need it.  Raven needs to feel powerful again, and Harper needs to feel alive.

"I didn't know you liked girls," Harper exhales breathlessly as Raven's mouth brushes over her cheek to her neck.

"You never noticed how many excuses I found in physical therapy to put my hand on your thigh?"

"I thought you were just helping.  You do it to Abby too."

"Abby also has great legs," says Raven approvingly, which makes Harper giggle, "but she's not the one I'm making out with right now."

"Yeah, we don't have to talk about Abby."

"Let's not."

Raven laughs and kisses Harper's mouth, warm and wet and sweet.  "God, you're pretty," she murmurs, stroking blonde hair out of Harper's eyes, and this is why she likes fucking girls so much, even when it's hard it's soft, even when it's rough it's sweet.  Raven's hands are hot and hungry all over her body but even when she slips inside Harper's cotton panties and makes her gasp, it's exactly right.  Harper tugs Raven's zipper down and slides a hand inside, where Raven's already warm and wet, and feels softness clench around her fingers as she draws a shaky little gasp out of the girl's mouth, and a surge of triumph pulses through her, because Raven hasn't smiled in such a long time and Harper's the one who made her do it.

Raven bends her head, resting against Harper's forehead.  "Do you want me to go down on you?" she whispers, making Harper flush pink to the roots of her hair.  But she shakes her head.

"No," she says.  "I mean yes. I do.  I want you to.  But not now.  Just stay here," she tells her, one hand stroking Raven's hair as the other rubs sweet little circles around her clit.  "Just stay with me.  Where I can look at you."

Raven nods, breathlessly, then shifts her weight and flicks her wrist and fuck, there it is, two fingers crooked deep inside Harper, touching that spot she likes, making her whole body shiver, and Raven's eyes are so dark and intense on hers, Raven's so _present_ , so very much right here, hips rocking against Harper like she's aching from want, one hand inside her cunt and one hand cradling her face, and the harder she goes the better Harper likes it because Raven is fucking her like she knows Harper can take it, like she knows they'll both be sore after this but that doesn't make them weak.

"Harder," she murmurs to Raven, whose face lights up, and she goes harder, fingers reaching in, thumb circling Harper's clit, never tearing her eyes away.  Harper gives back as good as she gets, hands deft and quick inside Raven's jeans, and she's pretty proud of herself that Raven comes first, shallow gasps rising into a choked cry as her hips shudder to a halt and she leans down against Harper's shoulder, sliding in a third finger so deep and fast that she brings Harper over the edge with her.

They lay there on the stale heap of storage room bedding for a long time, breathing hard.  Harper's not sure what to say.  There's a delicate bubble of light, of sweetness surrounding them, it's almost like what she imagines being happy might feel like, and it will vanish the moment she gets up to put her pants back on, so she doesn't want to burst it yet.

Then, "Honestly I feel like that should count for today's physical therapy session," Raven says, muffled into Harper's shoulder, and they can't repress the cascade of giggles rippling through both of them like a waterfall.  "Let's just tell Abby we already got our workout in for the afternoon."

"Fine with me," says Harper.  "I like it your way much better."


End file.
